


Of All Places

by ily_like_a_banana



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Fluff, Gen, M/M, One Shot, Red String of Fate, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-10-03 12:13:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17283863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ily_like_a_banana/pseuds/ily_like_a_banana
Summary: for so long, the string attached on your pinky finger remain unmoving and when it finally does, you were in for quite a surprise.





	Of All Places

You reach up for a mug on the top shelf from the pantry, tear open a packet of instant coffee, dump it inside and pour steaming hot water over it. You swiftly mix the contents without much thought - after all, you’ve probably done the same routine over a thousand times ever since you started work in Pledis as an intern.

But your gaze catches on something; something that makes you slow down a little, the tinkling noise from the teaspoon and the mug, halting.

The red string tied to your pinky finger remain unmoving, the way it has been your whole life.

As a child, you believed your soulmate was actually a prince who would come to you on a white horse. He would’ve probably lived in a far away kingdom in a huge castle with a strict king for a father and a soft-spoken queen as a mother.

Later in your fresh teens, you believed him to be the most popular guy at your school (although you have come to learn during sophomore year that you were wrong when you spotted him one day holding hands with another girl at school, their strings end to each others’).

You never held any expectations after that; the presence of the red string almost insignificant to you.

The sound of someone calling out your name makes you jerk a little in surprise, snapping you out of your thoughts. You clear your throat and carry the mug snuggly in your hand before yelling out, “coming!”

You half-run-half-walk towards your superior in the studio set where a photoshoot is being held.

“What took you so long?”

“I - uh, had to wait for the water to boil.” You bite your tongue as soon as the words came out, feeling a little guilty for lying.

Your superior brings the mug to his lips, eyebrows arching up as he takes a long sip from his coffee. “Anyway,” he sips once again, “go take Jeonghan from the dressing room. He’s next.”

Your brows scrunch together in confusion, the name registering as unfamiliar to you. Your superior seems to catch on to your expression so he goes, “just call out his name in the dressing room. Now, go.”

You shamble off right away without a second longer. Opening the door to the dressing room, you slowly peek your head in and studied the place. There weren’t anyone inside however, you feel something tug at you to go inside.

The string.

You walk in, an array of clothing, makeup bags and shoes clutter the space. You almost trip on a shoe when the leg it’s connected to registers to you.

“Holy shi-”

Just then a guy about your age sits up from the floor, eyes still heavy with sleep. “Is it my turn?”

You try to respond but your lips won’t cooperate. Instead, all you can do is stare back at him - at his barely messed up hair despite lying down on the floor by a clothing rack and the well defined slopes on his face as he shoots you a lazy, innocent, heart-stopping smile.

“Oh, sorry, I should introduce myself,” he holds out his hand, where the end of your string is tied to, “my name is Jeonghan.”


End file.
